He said this, of course, while driving me, which made me check my seatbelt and check-in with the man upstairs.

Soon enough, we arrived at White Castle – my request, not Cheech’s – where I would partake in a burger-devouring that brought me back to yesteryear. Growing up in the Midwest — Clayton, Missouri (Go Greyhounds) – there were two burger staples that battled for supremacy inside the hearts and digestive tracts of locals. So on this trip to Indy, I returned to my roots, sparking a debate as old Bill McCartney’s dad:

White Castle versus Steak ‘N Shake.

Steak ‘N Shake, which has its headquarters in Indianapolis, is one of those 1950s-style burger joints where you’d expect to run into Potsie. The day before Marley and me went to White Castle, I popped into the Steak ‘N Shake in downtown Indy. The waft of steakburgers brought me back to Clayton, where my friend Michael and I were Steak ‘N Shake regulars and always had the same waiter: Ray-Ray.

We all became friendly, and sure enough, one time Ray-Ray brought out our bill — which was usually like $10 – and this time, it was just $3. Thankful, we tipped him the $7 that would have gone to the bill. The next time, yep, it was $3 again. Because ol’ Ray-Ray was so generous in reducing our bill, we generously tipped him $7. This happened like every freaking time. Michael and I believed we were some sort of Steak ‘N Shake VIPs, even though we were basically paying the same amount of money (soon after, I realized that my saved-up Bar Mitzvah money was going to Ray-Ray’s new stereo.)

I hadn’t been to Steak ‘N Shake for a while, and upon arrival in Indy, I noticed they had updated the menu, adding some highfalutin burgers such as the Portobello ‘N Swiss Steakburger, the Guacamole Steakburger and the Bacon ‘N Bleu. My pants are not fancy. At Steak ‘N Shake, I get the double steakburger with cheese, no adjectives.

Here’s the best thing about a Steak ‘N Shake steakburger – everything. The patties are thin and the edges are so perfectly and precisely crisp, it’s as if Rodin was back there with a spatula. The burgers are so light (lithe, if you will), yet they contain such jubilant juiciness and potent flavor, it makes for a culinary conundrum.

Over the years, I have carefully and meticulously developed the perfect recipe for the Greatest Bite Ever Taken. We lost a lot of good steakburgers along the way. But on May 17, 1998, I finally achieved the GBET.

I’ve never shared this information with anyone. Not my parents. Not Michael. Not Ray-Ray. It’s like that “Seinfeld” episode with the Soup Nazi and his secret recipes (until Elaine gets her hands on his armoire, which stored the secret instructions for, among others, cold cucumber, corn and crab chowder and mulligatawny).

The next day, I hopped in that cab and headed to White Castle. I was on an unstoppable mission – upon arrival, I swam the moat, punched an alligator and finally entered this majestic palace of Lord Slider.

I enjoy White Castle while sober, but White Castle has been famously feeding drunks since, well, prohibition. Founded in 1921, 13 years before the first Steak N’ Shake opened its doors, White Castle serves little square burgers, about 3 inches-by-3 inches that go down quickly (and, well, out quickly; when I told my mom that I ate at White Castle, she immediately asked: “Are you feeling OK?”).

As the Beastie Boys once rapped, “White Castle fries only come in one size,” which is indeed accurate, but my cab driver — this sage in flannel with bad teeth — told me about a sly fry secret that’s off-the-menu. So it seems, there’s a special seasoning salt, which, as scrupulously described to me by the lady behind the counter, is “a seasoning salt” (thanks, Mildred). Turns out, it’s a powdery, spicy orange salt – a secret flavor that catapulted my fries to a higher stratum, like the secret code on Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out that took you right to Tyson (007-373-5963 … I, however, couldn’t even beat Soda Popinski, let alone Iron Mike).

I ordered the “No. 2” (I didn’t realize this play on words until right this second). This was two double-cheeseburgers, fries and a drink (I ordered two additional single-cheeseburgers, because you can go through these things like leftover Halloween candy in the bowl by your front door, which at my house were the Mr. Goodbars, because what kid actually chooses Mr. Goodbars from all the delicious candy options? It’s like choosing Pete Best as your favorite Beatle).

I laughed at a poster on the wall that suggested patrons should substitute the fries with a “healthy side” – the lone option was applesauce, which, according to the poster, had “no high fructose corn syrup.” Couple thoughts. First of all – burgers with applesauce is OMGross. Second of all, can you picture some drunk guy – drunk guys, incidentally, make up 37 percent of White Castle’s clientele – ordering 13 sliders but subbing out the fries for applesauce? (“I gotta watch my figure, bro.”)

As I began slamming down my sliders, two things stood out – the gooey deliciousness and the pickles, each complementing the other, like Donny and Marie or Donnie and Marky Mark. I was in a zone; I could have eaten 53 of these things (But, I knew that I had a flight to catch, so in retrospect, the lady in Seat 7B can thank my voice of reason).

So after eating at both Steak ‘N Shake and White Castle – I had to settle the great debate, once and for all. If I could have one or the other, before beginning a strict, lifelong applesauce diet, what would I choose?

I texted my buddy Hoover in Denver, who has previously dined at both establishments (and proclaimed that if he focused, he could eat 20 White Castle sliders in one sitting).

Hoover called this “an epic question,” and pointed out the fact that “a last meal should be purely based on the quality of the sandwich itself – not how many you can eat.” But then I texted him back – let’s say that, yes, the steakburger is a little better than the slider … but, does the thrill of devouring slider after slider supersede the thrill of a lone delicious steakburger (and the ensuing GBETs)?

Hoover did not respond. I got worried. Had my counterpoint been so intelligent, so mind-blowing, that his system overloaded and he passed out? Or did he just suddenly get really hungry for Steak ‘N Shake and White Castle — and so he hit the highway, embarking on a road trip for the ages?

Chris Dempsey arrived at The Denver Post in Dec. 2003 after seven years at the Boulder Daily Camera, where he primarily covered the University of Colorado football and men's basketball teams. A University of Colorado-Boulder alumnus, Dempsey covers the Nuggets and also chips in on college sports.